Tlain: A New Beginning
by redragon6662
Summary: So, this is my hand at reworking a classic... well not a classic persay but anyway, the rating is purely temporary until I have figured out what I want to do with this story. Tlain is a new character and is sure to mix things up at 'ol Hogwarts. RR SVP.
1. A New Beginning

This is a sort of re-writing of the first book and (tentatively) maybe the others.

It's a new year at Hogwarts and everyone is excited to go back to school. The famous trio has just formed and this is their first year but there is a new girl and she has a secret, will history repeat itself from the Marauders Days? See how the Harry Potter story transforms with

**Tlain: A New Beginning **(Ok yea I suck at openings

but bear with me here)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am sorry to say, but the unique story line and some characters. If I did own everything…. Well then I'd be rich and famous, living in Scotland and going by the pen name of J.K. Rowling…

Disease spreads through the streets like wildfire, especially in Knockturn Alley. It's not even an alley; it's an entire town in the slums of Magical London. This is where Tlain Arcanum can be found, living off the muck and crap that runs in the sewage canal, hiding her secret, always hiding. She had a residence, 281 Westcott Ave; Knockturn Alley. It was a home, of sorts. She had a roof over her head, walls around her, and food, if only once every two days. She lived in this house with several other children, mostly girls, and an old man. The man took care of them; they were given food and the occasional scrap of clothing. The clothes were usually third or fourth hand, second hand was too rich for them. The children didn't know the man's name; they called him Mr. Father but more generally sir because most of the children still remembered their own parents. They had come into the home from the streets, their parents either having been killed for lack of food or disease, or missing. That's what happened these days, even in the calm after Voldemort was cut down by nothing but a babe, people went missing in the slums.

"The place the min'stry don't even know 'bout"

"Don't _care_ ta know. But 'oo would? I know _I _wouldn't care ta know this place."

"But you'd at least send someone _down _here to help us wouldn't you? I mean if you were in the min'stry."

"Well yea. 'Course I would. But I don't _like_ this place; I wouldn't care what happened to it… just the people."

"But we live here. If Knockturn Alley was destroyed then we'd 'ave no 'ome. No place to live. I don't like it either but…"

"Hey! Stop backin' me inta a corner!"

"I'm not I'm jus' tryin'a prove my point. Hey! Don't bloody shove me!"

Tlain listened to the banter of her friends and housemates with fading interest. Politics was all talk and games and, while she found Muggle politics fascinating, these two, Erik and Claudia, knew little on the topic of wizard government and were debating over the most elementary type of politics she had ever heard. The fight that ensued interested her even less than the talk did and she rose from her perch on the ratty foot stool. She strutted with all of her ten year-old arrogance to the man they called Mr. Father.

"Sir. Might I go for a walk b'fore lights out?" The huge man had a red beard with grey streaks at such intervals that they looked as though they had been measured with a ruler. His beady eyes were framed by masses of grey-red hair. He always wore a hideous brown suit with an open collar so you could see his chest hair pouring out over onto his jacket.

"Be back b'fore night fall, young'un. You know what'll 'appen if'n ye fergit." He growled. The girl nodded and was out the door before Mr. Father could change his mind.

Tlain gazed at the evening streets of Knockturn Alley through hazel eyes that changed with her mood, hazel when she was passive and pensive. She reached up to scratch her matted raven hair with long delicate fingers, her right pinky looked like it had been broken in several places, the mark of the drunken wrath of Mr. Father. She was forever draped in a black trench coat, her prized possession, as it was, she never took it off. Tlain all but lived in the garment and it seemed to grow with her, so she'd never have to get a new one. The girl looked so at home in the coat it appeared, not as a separate entity, but a part of her being, growing from her back, at least, that was what a man named Hagrid thought as he flew over the "alley," off to deliver a letter. A special letter, it was addressed to "The Boy Who Lived." Rubeus Hagrid was the Keeper of the Keys and the Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was charged, by the Headmaster, to personally deliver all acceptance letters to their young recipients. Hagrid recognized the girl down in the Alley at once and glanced at the letter bag he carried on his shoulder. After the Boy Who Lived, this girl was next to receive her letter. He grinned at how happy he knew she would be and flew on.

Tlain's head snapped up as the large man flew over her home. She scowled 'These peoples I don't know always thinkin' on me. Why they gotta do that? They don't know I can hear 'em I'm guessin'. Wish I could hear they thoughts tho. Not jus' this buzz when they be a thinkin' on me.' She heard the buzz again from a couple across the street. They were staring at her trench coat. It seemed to be flapping in the wind but no one could remember the last time a gust of wind dared to fly down Knockturn Alley. Tlain snorted and glared at the couple and spun to walk down the street again. Nightfall was but an hour away and she had places to be.

Tlain spend down the street, cutting corners and across vacant lots, as was customary on this particular journey, she could not afford to be followed. Her pace slowed as she approached a shabby looking building and she glanced around her as a precaution. Noting the bums that lined the side of the street she strode with the confidence no other ten year-old could muster into the slum's apothecary.

The woman at the counter looked up and a thinly veiled sneer crossed her face. "It be tha' time arready, innit?"

"Yea, mum. I be needin' sum more uv yer special brew ifn' ye don' mind."

The witch raised an eyebrow. "Ye think I've forgotten our lil' bargain 'ere? Where's th' stuff an' I'll give you yers." Tlain procured a canvas bag from a hidden pocket inside her coat and emptied the contents on the counter. Out rolled the strangest assortment of artifacts, from dried frog legs to crumply looking mushrooms, even some twitching bits of bark. "Don' know where ye find all this here, young un' but ye do a fine job none the more… arright, ye've earned yer potion fer de month."

The young girl nodded and took the dark bottle shoved in her face. "Ye ever gunna tell me 'oo dis be fer?" The woman's eyebrow disappeared beneath her tattered bangs as she flung the question at Tlain with her gravely voice. The girl shook her head, hiding a grimace and stalked out of the shop, shoving the bottle into her bag as she went. Several years ago things began happening to her, inexplicable things, mainly when she got angry, sometimes when she got very sad. She had explained these symptoms to an elderly friend of hers, one who would know about these things and she trusted. The friend directed her to the apothecary and to a potion she said would help Tlain. The girl didn't want to know what was wrong with her and didn't care. These happenings scared her. She felt so powerful when they happened, like she could do anything, like she could be anything. Tlain cared about the other children in the home and did not want to hurt them if she ever lost control of the happenings. She went to the apothecary and was directed to pick up the potion once a month in exchange for several hard to find potion ingredients. The woman behind the counter meant to deny her the potion, believing that Tlain would never be able to find the ingredients in the slums of Knockturn Alley, but every month Tlain appeared with the items and took her potion quietly. Few questions were asked and little fuss was made. Tlain took her potion and everyone was none the wiser. Her friend repeatedly offered to tell her what was wrong with her but she vehemently refused. To her mind, if she could learn as little as she could about what was going on, it would go away, she could ignore it until it disappeared completely. How wrong she was, she would soon find out.

Tlain turned a corner and found herself facing west. She glanced up in horror when she realized that the sun wasn't glaring into her eyes. She would've gone on, she had her potion and she could just keep going and never turn back, she had amazingly good vision in the dark and the people don't bother her but she couldn't afford to not go home. She couldn't afford to anger Mr. Father, for if she didn't come home, some other poor child would face his wrath and she couldn't bare the thought of that. No, angering Mr. Father was not an option. Tlain flexed her crooked finger and set off at a run feeling the bottle thump against her back with every step, a constant reminder of her urgent problem.

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Note from the Author: Yea…. I dunno, I guess I like it. The next chapter I think I like better so far. Anyway, responses would be nice. I'm gunna mix this up as much as I can but I'll stay true to the story and the characters for the most part. Hope you guys enjoyed! The next chapter is longer so review review review and I'll post it!! hearts -Gwen Rathlyn


	2. Mr Father's Wrath

Hey Everyone!! I be baaaack! The usual Disclaimer and all that: I don't own it, only things you don't recognize like the whole town in Knockturn Alley and Tlain and…. Well you get the picture… Oh yea, I've had some re-thinking on the story and I think I might do a culmination of all the stories, obviously condensed… a lot. I'm working on another story right now as well, Tlain appears in that one but as a completely different character. Anyway it might consume much of my free time as it is original and takes precedence, so don't get mad if I fail to update for a while. I REFUSE, however, to abandon my dear so have no fear, I won't trash this story completely without telling you guys… Anyway enough with my ramblings, on with the show!

**Chapter 2**

**Mr. Father's Wrath**

Tlain ran in the door of the house just a minute after the sun's final rays had been cleared from the horizon and Mr. Father look furious. "Where were you." It was more of a statement than a question in the man's low and dark voice. "I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!!" All the children were standing there. He made them watch when he got angry at a tenant of his house. Tlain bowed her head and glanced around the room trying to shut out the buzzing in her head of all the eight girls and three boys thinking about her. "WELL??" Mr. Father was almost on top of her yelling into her matted hair.

"Out," Tlain replied meekly, "and about." She shifted a tiny bit, hoping there was no lump in her jacket where the potion rested in a hidden pocket. She blushed furiously hoping no one would see and her eyes welled up with tears in her anger.

Mr. Father smirked as a tear hit the floor and Tlain slapped herself mentally for showing such weakness, but at least the man had backed away, his breath had smelled of the sewage and filth that ran under the streets of their home. "Well," he sneered, "since ye seem so sorry I think I'll be wavin' th' punishment… fer now." One of the boys slumped against the wall and sighed in exasperation. Tlain glared at him, it was that Malfoy boy; his well off father had gotten sick of him and dropped him off here a week ago. It seemed he couldn't do anything magical and his father thought him a squib. Tlain and this boy had been at each other's throats ever since he came and he seemed excited that she was going to get punished. "Off ta bed kiddies oh and Tlain, wait a momen'."

Draco Malfoy passed her and hissed in her ear, "A pity he couldn't knock some sense into you, eh?"

Tlain grimaced at his posh accent and replied, "Sorry yer hopes and dreams were destroyed, Draco babe, but jus' b'cause yer father don't want ya don't mean no one does." She touched on the rumor that Mr. Father had "fun" with Draco every night and shoved him against the wall. Draco glared at the girl and stalked to his cot.

"Girl," came the husky call from the other room, "git in here. I've got somethin' for ye." Tlain shuddered and walked quietly into a room that would've been a kitchen if the house had been a respectable one.

She gazed up at the large man and then dropped her head, "Yes sir?"

"Ye got a letter taday. Now why would 'ny one send _ye_ a letter?"

"May I see it please?" she asked, trying to sound as subservient as possible.

"I'm a thinkin' I need some payment for such trouble ye caused me taday, an' 'cause I don't give out valuables freely." He gazed at her hotly, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his eyes blazing in the darkness.

Tlain's eyes grew wide as he understood what he asked. She shook her head involuntarily. "S…Sir. Bu'…." She stood there gaping at the man. She finally got up the nerve to look him in the eyes. She had never made such a big mistake in her life. His eyes were dark and hungry and he opened the door to his basement suite beneath the house. Tlain lowered her eyes and they began to gain a golden tint. Her breath quickened as she felt the changes she had taken so many precautions to prevent, her clawed hands curled over the lump in her coat, wishing she had had the forethought to take the potion before she came home. Her teeth elongated and hair grew coarse and, for once, she took courage from the transformation, she was in trouble after all, and decided that maybe this horrifying twist in her life had a purpose. She took a rattling breath and dared to look up once again.

Mr. Father's expression quickly melted from lustful to terrified. "Give me the letter." Tlain growled; her voice deeper than his had been just a moment ago. In severe contrast, he squeaked. 'Like a little mouse,' she mused as the man flung the letter in the air and ran like a child. In his terror he forgot the low hanging doorway and cracked his head against the frame. He fell with a great thud and all was quiet but for the ripping of a letter envelope.

As the other children filed down to see the damage Tlain's punishment had done, the small girl read the letter through hazel eyes;

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_Of _WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chief Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms. Arcanum,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. ("Bu' I didn' apply!" Tlain told her friends. They were all very misinformed as to the workings of the Hogwarts acceptance books.) Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment.

Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

_Deputy Headmistress_

Tlain scanned the letter again and again, looking for the joke line, the sentence that states that this is all a gag and that she really wasn't getting out of this hell hole. The emerald green scroll of this Professor McGonagall blurred before her eyes.

"_I _got mine yesterday." Came the drawl of the Malfoy child, "I suppose they go from best looking to least." He grinned maliciously.

"Or dumbest ta smart." Tlain muttered. The other children snickered and Draco turned red.

"Well _my _father is coming to fetch me tomorrow. When are _your _parents coming, Tlain? Or does your family care?" He smirked at his own wit and Tlain glared.

"I wouldn' take heart from such a gesture," Tlain shot back, mocking his posh accent. "After all, you'll jus' end up here anyway, if'n ye don' change a mighty lot." She turned to the group of children. "'Oo else got theirs?" She waved the letter. Two other hands raised, one belonging to the small mousy girl, Kelsey. No one would've guessed she was ten years old, or eleven for that matter. The other hand was that of Devon, the tall and silent boy. Of the three boys in the house, Tlain always felt closest to him. They barely spoke to each other but there was something about him. She knew he felt it too. She nodded to the dark boy and eyed the other children. Some were, in fact, squibs, and one was fourteen. "'Arriet," Tlain called to the older girl, "do ye think ye could take care of th' kids? I don' know what condition _Sir_ will be in when he wakes up, and I don' like th' idea of leavin' my family with 'im." She gazed at the children with warmth. The older girl nodded and began to herd the children towards the door, intent on finding a better place to stay. "Devon, Kelsey, we need ta owl these people… and get 'elp."

"Oi! What about me??" Draco questioned. Tlain stared, a golden undertone seeping into her hazel jewels.

"Oh, I am so sorry. An' 'ere I am thinkin' yer father was commin' ta git ye!" Tlain said in a falsely concerned voice. She then turned and proceeded to issue orders on what to do from there on out. She might have only been ten, but she had the gift of a cool head in a tight spot. A commanding air floated about her small figure.

The girl whistled and a raven flew down from the rafters. "Cray," she addressed the bird as she scribbled on the back of an envelope with a muggle pen. "Ge' this tah, 'Ogwarts, will ye?"

"**Ms. Tlain Arcanum, Ms. Kelsey Lerk, and Mr. Devon Brick are pleased to accept the invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry but will need monetary assistance and transportation in order to acquire what is needed for the term. Please send any assistance you can spare to 281 Westcott Ave, Knockturn Alley as soon as possible. Thank you again for your time and consideration**."

Tlain's parents had been extremely well off when she was younger and she had learned to write letters properly as soon as she could grip a pen in her slender hand. Her slum accent was mostly a defense mechanism but her parents had been dead so long that she had nearly forgotten how to be a proper lady. All she retained, and barely to her knowledge, were her writing skills and a dim sense of propriety and manners. In her current setting, however, manners and knowing which fork was which on a dinner table meant absolutely dick, as such they were skills she pointedly ignored.

Tlain tied the note to the leg of her trusted companion, carried him outside, and watched him fly away into the night. She gazed at the moon for a long moment, sighed and returned to the house to pack and await what ever help Hogwarts would deem worthy of the Knockturn Alley ruffians. She stood in front of her companions and smiled weakly as they began to question her about what happened with Mr. Father. "I dunno," she shrugged, "'E kinda flipped out 'n hit his head on the door." She explained it away as best she could with out mentioning her transformation, hoping they had missed that part, but Draco continued to look at her with a question in his charcoal eyes. When she glared at him his frown deepened but went about his business, packing all he had brought with him to the house, which was a considerable amount. However much he had, it was only a fraction of what he had initially brought with him, though, left over from Mr. Father's rifling and "payment."

Tlain had virtually nothing left from when she had first arrived. Her family had been wealthy, yes, but her mother had died from a nasty and reoccurring bout of influenza, her father from a broken heart followed by alcohol poisoning as he drank away their fortune. Tlain was left with three dresses, now reduced to the rags she lined her cot with, the trench coat she wore eternally, several galleons supplied by sympathetic neighbors, and her wits. The galleons she had effectively hidden from Mr. Father through sheer luck, she figured, and with these she would buy any favors she could to help her family. She pulled her old duffel bag from underneath the floorboards and stuffed all her belongings into it, the leather pouch containing the galleons went into a secret pocket in the coat, the potion was wrapped in rags and placed into the bag, she hoped it was inconspicuous enough. She then returned to the "kitchen" to check on her fallen caretaker, making sure he was quite unconscious but still alive. Establishing this was more difficult than she had anticipated, as she found it hard to get near enough to his stinking body of her own volition. Finally taking a deep breath and diving in, she found that he was, in fact, breathing, and that his pockets were lined with pilfered trinkets and numerous coins, she chuckled to herself and proceeded to lift the coins and toys from his pockets. Assembling the children she passed out belongings to their respective owners and slipped the coins into her pouch surreptitiously. The man would be livid when he awoke, that his pockets had been picked, but Tlain anticipated that she would have the children out of the house and away from the man before then. She then decided to get everyone out of the house before the man had a chance to awaken and _be_ livid.

With much protest from Draco that ended in Tlain cursing at him and saying that he could stay right where he was and deal with Mr. Father himself for all she cared, the twelve boys and girls, illuminated by the moonlight, made their way to a better side of town, the one closer to Diagon Alley. Tlain knocked on doors explaining their case along the way, wondering did anyone have a place for a child or two? It was better, she thought, to spread the children around, make it harder for Mr. Father to locate them all. Morale was high as they traversed the slums, letting off one or two children from their train with a light pay from Tlain's pouch. Eight houses and shelters they went to, two children went here, one went there, two more still went to the one across the way. The young girl tried her best to get the children into desirable shelters or homes but had more than one door slammed in her face along the way. Along about sunrise the next morning, Tlain, Kelsey, Devon, and Draco collapsed onto the doorstep of their former abode, exhausted after the night's travels. Tlain sighed in relief, knowing that each child was at least in a better situation than before. Redistribution of orphans was not uncommon among the Knockturn Alley slums, if one shelter was deemed unworthy or condemned by the government, the children had to go to the next shelter, or the next home, and the next and the next. Usually the children were admitted with a minimal donation, but more and more shelters were being shut down so conditions were becoming desperate. The Ministry, of course, did nothing about these conditions; they did not provide the funds to rebuild condemned shelters or the assistance required for redeeming an unworthy home. The poor were left to fend for themselves, existing only as an example to be referred to by the Ministry of how not to live.

Tlain sighed, pulling herself from troubling thoughts and roused her companions. "We should get inside b'fore Sir wakes up an' rages around." The three nodded and followed her inside. They found the stinking hulk of a man right where they left him, located some rope and rags and, with some difficulty, the group of ten and eleven-year-olds bound and gagged their long time tormentor. Tlain found herself grinning in perverse satisfaction. The deed done, she sent the others off to their cots to get some rest, Draco too tired to protest, and she sat at the front door to wait for the arrival of what ever was due from Hogwarts, rousing herself every twenty minutes or so to check the bindings on their captive and make sure he was still alive. The third time she prodded him he twitched, groaned, and cracked a bleary eye.

"Wuzzzgoinon…?" the man slurred, not yet having regained complete control of his motor skills. He struggled weakly against his bindings but the children had spit on all the knots and tied the strongest ones they knew. The tall boy, Devon, was especially helpful in this as his late father had been a sailor and had taught him durable, load bearing knots.

Tlain laughed weakly at the big man in front of her, making sure to stay out of range, in case any of his bindings did break. "Ye big oaf, you've lost yer gov'ment fundin', thas' what. All them kids'r gone over to other homes an' the rest of us're leavin' fer school." The man groaned again and shifted so he fell sideways out of his propped up position on the wall. Tlain yanked on his ropes to make sure they were still fastened, wrinkling her nose from his stench, and returned to her post at the front of the house. She settled down for a long while, satisfied that Sir was not going anywhere and began to drift off to sleep.

She woke to a harried Draco shaking her and calling her name. "Tlain! You! Hey you! Get up, there's someone at the door, innit?" The girl batted him away and rousted herself, grumbling that Draco was too much of a girl to open the door himself. This earned her an impressive oath from the boy but no physical abuse. She heard now the consistent thumping at their door, she opened it quickly, for fear it would fall down completely, and found herself being rapped on the head by golf ball sized knuckles. "YOUCH! Wha'cha doin' that for? Stop it I say! Yer hurtin' me, innit?" Tlain looked up and thought she had never seen such a large man seem so small.

Rubeus Hagrid slumped, apologizing profusely to the young girl for knocking her on the head. "I'm Rubeus Hagrid," the large man said still very apologetic. "I'm 'ere to collect ye fer 'Ogwarts." Tlain glanced up when she recognized his slum accent. She grinned slightly and stopped rubbing her head where the man had hit it.

"I'm Tlain, good sir, Tlain Arcanum. That's Draco Malfoy," she jerked her head in the boy's direction as the other two wandered into the room rubbing their eyes, "An' thoes're Devon Brick and Kelsey Lerk. Yer here te help us with buyin' stuff?"

Hagrid nodded his gigantic head. "Th' school has a special vault fer students like yerselves. You'll be able ta buy all ye need, within reason, o'course." Tlain nodded. She and Devon and Kelsey were modest enough, she had her doubts about the Malfoy boy, but he had his father to rely on so she didn't give him a second thought.

"Well, Mr. 'Agrid, lead on." Hagrid eyed Draco, the fourth of their group.

"I, er… I was told tha' there was only three of ya… I don' think." Tlain whipped her head around to glare at Draco, smirking at the realization dawning on his face. He wasn't being rescued right away; he had to wait for daddy dearest to come rescue him.

"No worries," Tlain assured him. "Posh boy here already has a ride." She went to get her things and the three, and Hagrid, departed.

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Well, that's it for this chapter. I hope you guys like it, I'm still working out exactly what this is going to be, right now it's basically a distraction from the more analytical thinking my English class demands. Anyway, suggestions from my dear readers would be great, rave me, don't flame me. If you want to say "YOU SMELL LIKE A PIG AND I WANT TO FLAY YOU ALIVE," then figure out a better way to say it and why. DERR. Anyway, love you all –Gwen Rathlyn


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